Fowl mood: Hickory’s revenge, Part 2
December 18, 2013 —
[Editor’s note: Part 1 of this story, which appeared in The River Reporter issue of December 5, 2013, continued the tale of the Turkey Bandit and how he freed 50 turkeys, ruining Farmer Hickory’s Thanksgiving. In Part 1, the Bandit awakes to find that his family, Hen and Junior, have been kidnapped. As we pick up the story, the Turkey Bandit is trying to attempt a rescue of his family from the farmhouse….]
The Turkey Bandit only made it a few yards before he found himself surrounded by two of Farmer Hickory’s snarling watchdogs. He raised his arms slowly in defeat as the dogs yipped and chuckled.
He kicked at the dirt with his boot in frustration. Of course it had been a trap. How could he have been so stupid?!
CHUNK! The yard was suddenly bathed in bright lights. The Bandit blinked as his eyes adjusted; these were new and improved security lights, he could now see fences of razor wires that were in mid-construction around the perimeter. He hadn’t noticed them in the darkness.
Seeing all the trouble Farmer Hickory had gone through to protect the farm was almost flattering.
“Take it easy, Turkey,” one of the watchdogs said, holding out a rope. “No sudden movements.”
“Great to see you fellas, as always,” the Bandit said, with as much of a grin as he could muster. He surreptitiously flexed his muscles as the two dogs cautiously tied him tightly and began to pull him toward the glowing farmhouse on the other side of the yard. As he relaxed, the ropes slacked ever so slightly.
With each step the Bandit willed a plan to enter his mind. Could this be the end? He thought about all those smiling young turkeys he’d saved over the years. He thought of his wife, Hen, and his son, Junior, trapped in the house.
Hen had predicted this very thing would happen to them. He could see her saying it so clearly and wished he had paid more attention. He had rashly assured her, promised her, that he would keep the family safe.
They stopped and stood in front of the house. The dogs pointed the Bandit toward the front door, his hands still bound as he climbed the steps one at a time.
The farmhouse was quiet as he stepped inside, silent even. The screen door hissed and then slammed behind him, startling him and echoing through the house.
Farmer Hickory was sitting casually at the table, smoking a cigar and reading the Almanac. “Glad you could make it,” he said without looking up.
“Howdy, Farmer Hickory. Love the new additions on the house. My wife tells me that razor wire is all the rage nowadays.”